Page 18 of Crowned In Sin

Where is he in all of this? He can’t possibly be one of the princes who comes to ask for my hand in marriage, because he is already here.

Somewhere.

Unless…

I pull the pillow over my head to try to drown out my thoughts. I have not felt him watching me since the guard rode up with the news. I’ve not heard footsteps on my balcony. It’s as if he was never here. My throat closes tightly at the thought. Perhaps he fears discovery as well.

Fear is a foolish emotion. I intend to live with the boldness I had when I made my confession and plea for my stranger to take me.

I don’t want to talk to these potential marriage candidates. I don’t even want to look them in the eye. My father is frustrated with me. I’m frustrated with myself.

I sit at meals with them anyway. I walk in the garden while my father watches. I drink tea and find that I can’t force myself to make conversation. I’m worse than the poor eighteen-year-old prince who had the bad luck of going first.

I wish there was a polite way to say that it’s not their fault. It isn’t, truly. The fault is mine, or else it’s no one’s fault.

The fifth meeting I have with a prince who hopes to marry me—or is it the sixth?—does not end well.

He has come with both his parents, the king and queen of a neighboring kingdom, and I swore to myself I would behave as a princess should. I greet all of them according to protocol and lead them to the sunroom where we would have tea together. I tell them how I love to ride horses and love to dance even more. I ask about the size of their stables. I even ask about the prince’s favorite place to hunt.

And I listen to the answer.

I, of course, plan to listen to every word he says and ask a fitting questions afterward, but I stir sugar into my tea and add milk…and then a bright flower in the garden catches my attention. Or was it a shadow? My heart strums in my chest and my attentions are stolen. There’s enough sun that there should be no shadows in the garden, but I see one.

Is it my stranger? Has he come to save me?

I look harder, in case my eyes are playing tricks on me.

There are no shadows. I do not feel his eyes on me.

All I feel is the awkward silence.

“I’ve had enough.” The prince tosses his napkin down to the table and stands. He is in his thirties, with auburn hair that I thought was a lovely color, and he has had enough of me. “I will not carry on a conversation with a partner who is only here to pass the time. It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess Cora,” he says, though he is clearly lying. “I will take my leave.”

I get to my feet.

“I apologize,” I say, nearly stuttering, and know I should make some excuse. I should say I’m tired. I should say I have a headache. But I’m only sorry for my rudeness, not that he’s leaving. “I apologize,” I say again, cupping my hands in front of me. Beside me, my father lets out a heavy sigh.

Grimly, I think it might be over then. I pace my rooms for hours that night. The anxiousness I’ve been chasing away with good behavior returns. Should I have done something different? Should I have tried my best with all of them, even if it didn’t feel right?

I shouldn’t have. That’s the only answer I can settle on. If I’d tried with them, even after my gut feeling said no, then I would be betraying myself.

I’d also be betraying these men. It does not matter in the end why they have chosen this moment to come to me.

In the back of my mind, a voice whispers that I might have gotten over it. Perhaps once we were married, one of them—and their faces blur together in my head so I can hardly remember one more than the other—one of them might have learned to give me what I want. One of them might have made a point of getting to know me, and getting to know my desires, and making them happen. I may be able to get away with my sinful deed if I lie to the physician and inform him that I’d taken my needs into my own hands after the first ball and plead with him to understand. After all I’ve heard that horseback riding has caused bleeding as well.

It is a new dream to want to get away with what I’ve done.

I sleep late the next morning and am rushed through bathing and getting dressed before a guard knocks at the door. He gives Blanche a message in a quiet voice, and she returns with a solemn expression on her face.

“The prince who planned to present himself this morning has decided not to come.”

It is over, then. A shocking sadness moves through me at the realization. It’s over, and I may never get another chance.

I’ve gotten my wish then, haven’t I? I may turn into a queen that instead of having suitors, takes a lover in secret. The kingdom will whisper, and I do not know how long it would stay secret. The council will surely frown on such a decision. And then there’s the topic of who would be heir. It all weighs heavily, far more so than I imagined.

But that afternoon, there’s a commotion in the castle. It doesn’t sound like anyone in distress, so I wait in my rooms until Alice and Blanche come in at speed, telling me there is another prince.

“He decided to come after all?” I am ashamed of the excitement in my voice.